Steel and Iron
by SexinSatin
Summary: What's a little tragedy between two veterans of hell and heaven? Zibbs relationship (not father daughter)
1. In Her Heart

_Just a note I began writing this story before the Boston Marathon bombings. Once the events of that day transpired I felt it appropriate to hold off for at least a while before posting. I wanted to be sensitive to anyone affected by that day. It's only a mention but under the circumstances I felt it better to wait. I am working on the most recent update for The Secrets We Keep, in fact have a few chapters written but they are not where I want them to be at so this is what I'm giving you for now. Thanks everyone who follows me or any of my stories. _

She wasn't ready for the sudden flash of insight that hit her. She was in love with him. She'd known for years that she wanted him, needed him, much like the air she breathed and the coffee he drank. But she'd always let that slide into the compartment marked _fantasy_. At night, on the weekends she would let those feelings wash over her, take them inside her much she like she wished she could take him. He felt it too; the occasional connection of blue and brown smoldering too hot for simple communication told her that. A glance from her desk to his could break even her concentration if the circumstances were right and they often were. She would feel the weight of that gaze in a crowded room, at a crime scene or even the rare moments when they were alone. A thousand words could be said when she finally allowed herself to look back at him. Yet on the surface he simply smiled. She asked herself often why she didn't just walk over to that desk on any of the nights they worked late settle herself on it and show him just how much he affected her.

Yet they both held back. Most days it was easy other days it meant she'd sit there fists clenched under her desk counting the minutes until she could go home and find a less than satisfying release at her own hand. Today had been especially difficult, he'd come to work in a suit. And damn if that didn't affect her. He hadn't failed to notice her reaction, he was a damn good investigator he wouldn't have missed the way she slid her eyes from the silver of his hair down to the shined shoes that were so not his normal clothing choice. A black suit, charcoal grey shirt and matching tie had never looked so good, and she'd seen many men try. As he'd passed her desk he hadn't bothered to hide the way he took in her shock, the need barely hidden in her eyes. Instead he'd stepped closer to her leaning in about to say something and then his phone rang. The blatant frustration at that familiar interruption had been shocking, not just because of how obvious it was but because she hadn't been the only one to see it.

Now heart pounding, pulse racing and a fine sweat breaking out on her neck and arms she wished he hadn't taken that call. Perhaps if they'd handed it off or if he'd let it go to voice mail, maybe just waited for it to ring one more time those few seconds might have made the difference. The difference being as they'd run through the various shipping containers he might not have walked into a hail of bullets.

Chasing subjects, sharing fire with them was nothing new in fact had become far more frequent as of late. Yet today hell seemed to be raining down on them. A terrorist cell intent on blowing up the port had made the day anything but ordinary. It had started out relatively routine, find the bomb, kill the guy guarding it, diffuse said bomb. Steady hands hadn't failed her in that task, Tony had killed the bad guy backed up by McGee, and Gibbs had watched her back as she'd let her mind work through the wires and detonators that she worked like a puzzle. Nothing about those moments had prepared any of them for the rest of the cell to pour out of the shadows like ants at a picnic. It was shocking how fast and how many there were. Normally her team could present an overwhelming offensive force even with just the four of them, but not this time. This time the sheer number had forced them to scatter into defensive positions. Tony and McGee had found shelter in between two large blue shipping containers. Tony as always had managed a quip about the containers becoming a habit of theirs but the humor had been brief as they'd rolled across the ground.

With a hand on his shoulder to relay her position she'd followed Gibbs into a virtual tunnel of metal boxes stacked high enough to nearly block the waning sun. She could hear them, their pursuer's boots on metal, instructions in Arabic that even someone who didn't speak the language could understand. "Find them….kill….hunt." They were the prey and this time the odds were not in their favor. Back-up was on the way. They'd managed a mayday of sorts as they'd seen the men pouring at them, but no one was wasting a free hand to hold a cell phone. She had a gun in each hand now seeing that McGee had been grazed across his leg. He was moving anyways, weaving through the metal structures as fast as his body would allow because no one wanted to be caught holding still. Their comm links allowed them to communicate but, it was broken words interspaced with harsh breathing, bullets bouncing off metal and a lot of swearing.

And now, the shocked cry of a woman calling out in protest. Belatedly she realized it was her making the sound and somehow she was smothering that sound, swallowing it down with the rising bile in her throat. Gibbs had stepped out from a crevice of steel and paint, like a damn gunslinger he walked down that metal alley way in a choreographed move intended to draw a little fire from the lone gunman above. Only to their obscene underestimation, that lone gunman had turned into far more than one. She wasn't counting though, not the men shooting just the bullets as they pierced the fine grey fabric of his shirt. She didn't know she was moving until she was standing, guns in hand next to him. Her own hail of hell and fury flew out at the enemy above them. 9mm ammunition and words equally lethal had them falling one by one bouncing off the sharp metal edges of the containers that had failed to protect them. Vaguely she was aware of something hot and burning piercing her body but it failed to stop her from pulling the trigger again and again until she knew only one bullet remained in each clip. She always counted bullets and there was Gibbs' gun lying on the ground next to him. He wasn't moving blood was rapidly seeping from underneath him, the woman in her screamed at her to check on him. She silenced that voice with every bit of training she possessed because just above the horizon of metal edges she could see movement and if it was the last thing she did she would kill the men that had him lying there gasping for breath.

In her ear she heard the sound of Tony saying something, but her mind wouldn't make sense of it. She was focused on the groaning's of men speaking a language rapidly becoming foreign to her and the gasping breath of the man in black. From the movies Tony had made her watch with him she knew that man in black always died killed by the man in a white hat. In those movies the man in black was the bad guy. But the man at her feet was good more good than a woman like her deserved. She strengthened her stance, lowered herself just enough to grasp the weapon from his limp hand and watched as that shadow on the steel skyline moved stealthily in her direction. Before she rose to her full height she let her fingers graze his palm. Silently she prayed for a response, a curling of his fingers, a twitch of movement. Again she had to fight back a scream as there was no response just the rattle of air in his chest, so focused on that sound was she that she almost missed the scrape of a boot dragging across the metal she was surrounded by. Her head snapped up a warrior's focus fixed on that ominous sound, her heart stayed there on the ground next to him willing him to show some sign of life.

Her mind recognized the sound of sirens far off in the distance too far, as the dragging sound grew louder and the bobbing shadow grew closer. She was exposed, easy to see yet her enemy moved slowly, she registered he was either injured or the numbers of his team had diminished enough that he wanted to be sure of his target before he began firing again. She could have hidden, retreated to the side of any of the metal boxes surrounding her but that would have meant leaving Gibbs alone unguarded and her breath actually stopped in her chest at that thought.

Behind her a distance away she could hear more sound, footsteps approaching slowly caution in every fall of sole against asphalt. This sound she recognized even above the roar of rage in her mind. Tony with McGee shortly behind was approaching. Their voices in her ear confirmed it. But she remained still a human shield for the man on the ground, if they wanted him they would have to go through her. Shoulders rose up into her line of sight, suddenly everything went quiet all she saw was a white shirt, dark hair and the eyes of her enemy. With the barest hint of pressure the hammer fell on the weapon in her hand, a perfect headshot that should have been satisfying but the look in his eyes right before he died had her spinning to her left. A second of confusion as her left hand momentarily wouldn't respond to her command and then she was firing the last bullet from that gun and emptying the rest from the clip in Gibbs'. The resounding finality of the empty click on the Sig Sauer in her hand had her throwing her body over his, pulling the knife from her hip instinctively. Logically she knew it would be nothing against another hail of bullets, she steeled her body for the next hit. It never came, instead Tony's voice shouting orders into his phone, words she almost understood but with the focus on the man underneath her became less than clear.

Finally she registered the words "All clear." Only then did she allow herself to truly asses his condition. The grey shirt held the stain of blood but as she shook her head to clear her gaze she saw it was not nearly as much as she might have expected. She'd counted no less than six bullets impacting his body, it hadn't been till the very last one that he'd hit the ground. For some reason that made her smile. She was forced to wipe water from her face, it wasn't raining so she couldn't understand it but for now she ignored it in favor of ripping open his shirt. Buttons went flying bouncing off the black ground, earlier in the day she'd envisioned nearly the same sight only her tearing had been fueled by passion. In this moment gone was the need to know what he looked like lying naked beneath her instead she was cataloging his wounds, a shoulder shot that looked like it had missed anything vital, a graze on the side of his neck so far nothing mortal. Black Kevlar had her breath rushing out in a whoosh of sound and the sprinkle of moisture. Again she wondered where the water came from but as her hands ran over the muscles of his chest and across the firm strength of his belly she watched his eyes snap open. Locked on hers she saw the reality of what had happened sink in. He tried to sit up, restrained by Tony's strong hand; her own still gripping the fabric of his shirt began to shake. She didn't know if it was relief, the ebb of adrenaline or the blood running over her fingers but what she did know was fear when she saw it. Those azure eyes fixed so clearly on her showed fear, shaking her head her eyes trailed from his to the area around them. Men were again pouring in around them, only this time she recognized many of the faces, friendlies. Her mind categorized them as no threat. But when she looked back at him he was again watching her with fear, forcing his body up to a sitting position. Ziva tried to stand, failed for some reason she couldn't understand, instead she watched his hand reach for her. He called her name his voice hiding nothing that he felt for her, that made her stop look at him, look at Tony and then McGee. They all shared the same look of fear. Through the stubborn nature of her training she forced her legs to bring the rest of her upright. If they were afraid, if _Gibbs _was afraid then there was still a threat. She brought up the knife still clutched in her hand glanced at it when she saw the blood staining the blade, she hadn't remembered using it. Slowly using all her focus because her mind just wouldn't allow her any clarity she followed the trail of blood up her arm and saw a wound nearly matching the one on Gibbs' opposite shoulder. She turned back ready to smile to make a joke about being a matched set, when a red hot poker of pain lanced through her midsection. Glancing down she saw the stain spreading across her own middle, she hadn't been wearing a vest. Another glance told her the steady throb in her thigh wasn't a charley-horse from all the running they'd been doing.

Her gaze flew shocked, disbelieving finding his. Tony and McGee we're holding him back with a great deal of difficulty. Tony was bleeding from somewhere but it was just a hazy acknowledgement of a stain on his body somewhere. Again she found Gibbs' gaze locked onto the blues eyes that haunted her at night just as the pain hit. Like a freight train and the whip that had once been used on her she felt a lash of fire lance through her. To her left a paramedic approached but he wasn't fast enough to stop her from hitting her knees. Gibbs was forcing himself across the distance between them, calling her name but before he could reach her the inky blackness she hadn't known she was fighting claimed her.


	2. His Intent

Gibbs felt Ziva's hand on his shoulder and despite the storm of bullets lashing around them it steadied him. The comfort of knowing she had his back seeped into his skin, melding with the sweet scent of her perfume not yet washed away by the sweat of adrenaline. He slid them into a makeshift blind of painted metal, their backs against the walls their eyes met. Hers so much like warm cedar fixed on his, her fingers held up the count of how many men she'd seen as they'd made the mad dash for their hiding place. When combined with his own he was quietly swearing out his frustration. He listened hearing the footsteps telegraphing their march away from his and Ziva's position. That sound should have made them both relieved but it didn't bode well for Tony and McGee both of whom he knew were wounded. He felt in his pockets hoping for something to distract them with, but his phone had been lost in mid-run as he'd bitten out a hasty call for help to Vance. He'd been in the process of informing him that they'd diffused the bomb and gotten the bad guy. Watching Ziva as she'd let those delicate fingers work wires, electrical ribbon and components had been hypnotic. A tactical error if ever he'd made one. His focus on the slide of her fingers on plastic and nylon wishing they were sliding across his skin might just be the reason they'd been caught in a nest of men wanting them very dead. Logically he knew even as they sat their silently trying to come up with a plan that Tony and McGee had been watching as well, they had believed the area cleared. Still as those footsteps above them retreated in search of the rest of his team he couldn't stop from wondering where the hell his focus had gone.

A quick glance at the brown eyes across from him and he knew that the same thoughts were swirling in her head. Even as he took precious seconds to decide what should be their next course of action his mind replayed the moments over the past few months that had him wearing the suit that had so captured her attention that morning. He'd known on a darkened night working late with her only two weeks earlier that he couldn't pretend anymore. He'd reached the point in his life where he knew what he wanted and he wasn't willing to push it aside any longer. He wanted her, and not just as something on the side when they could steal a moment if someone wasn't looking. He wanted all of her. So with a determination that lacked any doubt he'd walked into Vance's office and turned in his retirement papers. He'd given Leon a month's notice and not a day more. When asked why he'd only managed a smile and told him he'd know soon enough. A bullet pinged through the cramped space they shared, it danced dangerously close to her hip and he knew then exactly what he needed to do.

"I'll go." He saw the protest in her eyes watched it well up hard and fast but to her credit she didn't voice it. That made him damn proud, proud to work with her, to know her, to love her. Checking the clip in his gun and pulling his back-up from his ankle he flashed her one quick smile and stepped out from the steel sanctuary they'd found. Out of his nature rather than the training so drilled into him after years in the Marines he held his shoulders back and his head high. Through their common link he heard Ziva tell Tony and McGee their plan; warn them to be ready for the shift in position, to be ready to fight even harder. Her voice never wavered, never broke but he'd listened to it far too carefully over the years not to recognize the pain in it. Her pain registered far more than the first bullet strike, it glanced across his neck leaving just the burn of copper and smell of gunpowder. He'd counted on one shooter, perhaps even two from the sounds of the footsteps but apparently the bad guys knew how to play possum. He didn't feel fear as face after face hovered back and forth form his sight. Instead he resolved to take as many of them with him as he could. Ziva was only steps behind him, would be firing any second but those seconds were going to cost them both. The impact of the first three bullets was nearly simultaneous. Slamming into him they took his breath but not his willpower, he blinked away the tightness as his chest felt like it might cave in on him and took a few more steps forward. His gun went off as though an extension of his thoughts. Aim was instinctive turning to the sound of voices he didn't recognize. The fourth bullet made him burn, his arm trying to go lax fighting his mental command to continue holding the gun at his targets. It felt like hours that he stood there firing and taking hit after hit but he knew as the last bullets hit that it had been only seconds. He hit the ground hard, the stiffness of his stance hadn't allowed for his knees to soften the backward landing. Only the hard slap of his hand, a fall -break technique he'd learned lessened the impact. His teeth snapped hard in his mouth and the air that he'd been rationing left him in a hard rattle that startled the hell out of him. Ziva made a strangled sound that had the men above them snapping their gazes to her. She was even now rushing to stand by his side, guns bringing death and rage to the men he hadn't been able to reach. He wanted to drag her down; cover her body with his own, keep her from the falling beside him, in this she didn't need to be his equal. But, his body refused to respond to his commands. He was instead forced to watch through the slits of his eyes as she fired again and again at the enemy surrounding them.

She reached down beside him, took his gun but even when her fingers trailed across his palm he couldn't make his body moved. He could feel everything, knew he wasn't mortally wounded he just couldn't move. Later he would ask Ducky how that could happen but now as he watched her make her final stand all he could do was sigh out in silent rage and frustration. It broke through his anger again that only seconds had passed, Ziva had nearly emptied her clips and he knew how fast she fired. He'd timed her once at the range and even now lying stone still on the ground it was no less captivating. She was his own damn avenging angel. Cursing, she damned the men around them to hell even as his gun so comfortable in her hand gave a final, obscenely loud click. Suddenly her body was on his, the steely soft weight of her pushing to cover him, the glint of a knife in her hand as she gave even this most heroic effort to protect him. Soldiers didn't cry so he ignored the stinging in his eyes certain it had to be dust or metal shavings from one of the containers around them.

Tony's voice broke through the silence that threatened to deafen them. Her relief washing over them in a puff of breath from her mouth, tears welled in her eyes. He was watching her saw her swipe at them, confusion warring with relief as she ripped off his shirt and ran her hands across his body. As she sobbed out that relief he felt sensation returning to his limbs. A painful tingle that had him gasping. Her eyes flew to his, still full of tears he knew she didn't realize were falling. He tried to sit up nearly cursing as Tony held him in place. He heard the verbalized concerns about neck injuries and possible spinal cord damage. It didn't register nothing did except his need to comfort her. Then his entire world shifted, his focus had fully returned and he could see blood, too much for it to be his. Tony said her name told her to stop moving and Gibbs felt his blood run cold. She looked at him cocked her head and tried to stand. She failed at first frowning when her legs wouldn't work. Their fear had her forcing herself up even though he knew it had to hurt. She was looking for a threat. His stomach clenched in fear, she had a shoulder wound and as she saw it he knew why she smiled. The thigh wound could be bad as well, but what brought true fear crashing in on him for the first time that day was the blood spreading across her belly. The plain blue shirt hid nothing, not the obvious tearing of the fabric where a bullet had ripped through, and not the blood soaking the fabric. She looked down, looked at him and then like a puppet with it strings suddenly cut fell.

Nothing could have held him back as he watched her crash to the ground. Not the paramedics rushing their way, not Tony and not Vance appearing out of nowhere. He reached her as her body went fully slack, caught her in his arms just before her head would have snapped the ground just as his had done. Her eyes briefly found his, he saw her register the sound of her name and then her lashes fluttered closed. Her name slipped like a mantra from his lips, the only sound he was capable of making as he let one hand slip to her neck desperately searching for a pulse. A true prayer found its way through her name when he felt the beat of her heart beneath his touch. It wasn't as strong as it should have been but it was there and the only thing that kept him from finding a gun and putting more bullets in the dead men around them. He physically startled when a man in blue coveralls entered their space. For a moment he was reaching for a gun that wasn't there until he realized it was a paramedic. Bag in hand the man was quickly followed by another man carrying a backboard.

"Sir you have to let her go." The words filtered in his brain refocusing his rage. They didn't understand he was never letting her go. He managed a far too fierce "No." they flinched and he pressed his hand tighter against the wound on her belly. "She's not dead." Even as he said it he felt Tony come up beside him, and understood they weren't telling him to let her go in the spiritual sense. They wanted him to physically let go of her so they could tend to her injuries. It was painful to lay her on the plastic orange backboard. His body had locked itself around her certain if he just held her tight enough he could keep her alive but as he moved to put her into the keeping of the professionals he was reminded of his own injuries. He might just have done more damage to his shoulder when he lifted her into his arms, he was certain he had broken ribs at least three and his breathing wasn't as easy as he might have liked. Yet none of that mattered.

He forced his gaze around the scene making a quick assessment of everyone around him. Tony was standing; a pretty young EMT was tending a wound on his side, nothing serious if her smile was any indication. Gibbs would have expected Tony to return the smile but he only moved his gaze from where Ziva lay far to still and then back to Gibbs. McGee's leg was being wrapped he could hear that it would require x-rays but McGee wasn't complaining. Time seemed to be skipping from one event to the next as now Gibbs could see them loading Ziva onto a stretcher. She'd just been at his feet only a second earlier. There was a man at his side asking him questions, and yet all he could see was her being wheeled away from him. There was something wrong with him more than the injuries he'd assessed only seconds ago. His head hurt a nauseating pounding that wasn't allowing him to see anything but the swirl of police lights and Ziva's face. He followed the paramedics that were loading her into an ambulance waiting as they lifted her into another metal box. The irony of that should have struck him but instead a flash of pain behind his eyes forced him to put his head between his knees. The man was there again, talking but he couldn't make sense of his words just knew his driving need to stay with Ziva. Then Vance was there talking to the man with a thousand questions. Moments later he was seated in the back of the metal box on wheels, the siren far too loud for the pain in his head waiting for her to reach out to him.

His hand found hers lying still against the stretcher, the irritated look from the EMT meant nothing to him. He squeezed gently only to feel nothing, he wondered if this was how she'd felt as she'd touched his hand earlier. Letting his head fall into his free hand he willed away the nausea managing to rasp out her name. The faint twitch of her hand in his had his head snapping up the movement to much he barely felt the next squeeze of her hand on his as his head exploded in a light show of pain.


	3. Not like the Movies

Hi all, thanks again to everyone following this story and my others. Your reviews and favorites make my day. This story hijacked my creative energy and ran with it. Good thing too as I have something going on with my hand and it is not working well. So I haven't been able to type well lately. Secrets WILL be updated however the chapters I already have written are further ahead than what I need to post first So hang in there it will be back.

Again thank you all. :)

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Tony felt the burn of a bullet as it grazed him but he paid it little attention. It wasn't enough pain to indicate anything serious and he had McGee at his back relaying a count of the men that were hunting them. Quickly McGee added the approximate distance between them and Ziva and Gibbs. It wasn't as far as he would have thought but far enough. They'd scattered like rats off a sinking ship when men had begun filtering out of every crevice in the port. He'd followed Gibbs' commands to take cover as chaos had broken out around them.

Ziva had just finished cutting the last wire slowly pulling the components of the bomb apart when they'd heard the rustle of cloth against metal. It was telling the silence that had followed that sound. Gibbs had stopped his report to Vance holding the phone against his chest to muffle Vance's loud call for his attention. All four of them had frozen in place until mere hyper-seconds later they'd all moved quicksilver fast guns in hand to anywhere but the container that was rapidly becoming a death trap. McGee had taken his back and he had no issue with that probie had become a damn good shot lately. Whatever had been driving the probie was fine with him; the hours at the range were therapeutic for everyone. But he felt bad when he heard McGee muffle a sound of pain as a bullet connected with his shin. It had to hurt like hell but to his surprise despite a decided limp he never broke stride and his gun never wavered.

Later he would focus on how much McGee had changed since his first days on the team. For now his focus was on the commands Gibbs was barking out and the rain of bullets cascading around them. Vaguely he registered the fact they were probably well and truly screwed. They were essentially trapped in a damn metal graveyard that reminded him far too much of his and Ziva's last encounter with the metal containers. He made a comment about the coincidence but wasn't surprised when no one responded. The damn enemy was like the birds in the same titled Hitchcock film shadowing the skyline above them here, there and everywhere. A few quick shots an exchange of gunfire not unlike the old westerns he'd been encouraging Ziva to watch with him. For a moment he thought he and McGee would be stuck between two containers, life, death and their enemy. Finally he dragged McGee under a container raised up off the ground by something else equally as strong. He followed as quickly as he could earning some road rash as he did so. Glancing up at the underside of a thousand pounds of metal he forcefully pushed away the images of being crushed to death. His reverie of fear was broken when he heard Ziva in his ear breathing hard and fast.

She was with Gibbs but that was small comfort with the number of men deciding they were they newest game to be had. For a moment he felt a little bit like Harrison Ford in The Hunted waiting for Tommy Lee Jones except Tom had been willing to listen to reason these guys wanted nothing but blood. For a moment all he could hear was bullets pinging against metal and the sound of swearing. Then suddenly the voices in his ear grew strangely quiet. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and beside him McGee despite bleeding on the ground grew equally as quiet. It was quiet for too long, which meant either the unthinkable or the silent communication his teammates were far too good at. He let out a breath when he heard Gibbs' voice but the relief was short lived. Gibbs' voice whispered out only two words. "I'll go." But those two words had McGee and him looking at each other in alarm. He heard Ziva draw in a sharp breath, it was barely noticeable but still he caught it. Then she was speaking telling them what Gibbs planned to do and his blood ran even colder. They were pinned but could possibly wait out the horde of men trying to find them but obviously Gibbs knew something they didn't. Tony might have called any other man crazy but Gibbs always had a reason for everything he did. Sweat dotted his brow and despite their safe cover he motioned to McGee to follow him to where Ziva had indicated she and Gibbs were pinned down.

He knew they weren't moving fast enough when Ziva cried out. It was a sound he wasn't used to hearing. Ziva was always calm and collected, never let anything faze her and yet in his ear he could hear her call out Gibbs' name so laced with pain he nearly stopped in his tracks. McGee caught his eye and they quickened their pace. Almost like a carnival game they took out bad guys as they popped up left and right. Tony cursed at the sheer numbers of them and the fact they were slowing them down. He felt the bullet that had grazed his side nagging at him but if McGee could walk with a clearly damaged shin he could manage. So they kept moving working their way through the gauntlet of metal and iron. It seemed like forever when they finally came around the corner of a metal shipping container to where Ziva and Gibbs were. He'd known they were headed to a firefight but he hadn't known they were stepping into hell.

Ziva stood gun in either hand facing easily as many men as he and McGee had. In the slow motion passage of time that in reality was merely seconds he watched at least three men fall, she turned emptying the last of the bullets into a man that must have been standing somewhere above them. He recognized too many things at once. Gibbs lay still as stone on the ground at Ziva's feet blood pooling beneath his shoulder. With a final shot McGee took out a man on his right and as Ziva threw her body over Gibbs' he could see she was wounded, badly. Her crisp blue shirt no longer only blue scared the hell out of him.

As they approached Ziva cautiously they heard the Director in their ear, the good guys had arrived but as he got closer to Ziva he knew she wasn't aware yet. And he wasn't certain the men in white hats weren't too late. He knelt carefully at Gibbs' head trying to stabilize his neck as Ziva ripped at his shirt. He saw tears falling from her eyes and wondered if she knew she was almost shouting at him not to die cursing in languages he didn't even recognize. Only when her hands touched the solid blackness of his bullet proof vest did she finally seem able to calm herself. Her breath gasped in a sound of relief so profound it shook Tony to his soul. Suddenly Gibbs was looking at her; Tony saw shock, an instant of confusion and then fear. Gibbs was never afraid and he knew Ziva saw it too when she tried to stand and failed. McGee whispered at him that paramedics were almost to their location, only seconds had passed and yet it felt far longer. Then Ziva was standing though how it was possible he couldn't guess, the extent of her wounds had him swallowing back his own fear. Blood poured from her shoulder and when she recognized her and Gibbs' matching wounds she smiled. But the smile was brief; she stood looking for whatever had caused the fear in Gibbs. He understood then that she didn't recognize Gibbs' fear, their fear was for her. Her shoulder wound might have been considered minor but, a thigh wound on the same side had blood steadily dripping down her thigh and then of course the belly wound. Her eyes fixed on it at the same time theirs all did. Her shock was like that in the movies but there was no humor here and reality added pain. Tony watched her hand go to her midsection and his own wounds screamed at him an echo of the pain she had to be feeling.

Gibbs was trying to move and because of words like neck injury and spinal damage Tony was trying to hold him still but as Ziva looked down at that ugly tide of red burning across her middle and hit her knees he knew he would never hold him back. Even as injured as he was Gibbs had cleared the short distance between him and Ziva and caught her before she could hit the ground. In that moment Tony saw confirmation of what he'd suspected for a long time. Gibbs was in love with Ziva, and if her earlier reaction was anything to go by she felt the same. Gibbs had pressed a hand against the wound on her belly, locking his arms around her he held her so tightly against him Tony wondered if she could breathe, if she was even alive. Her name slipped from Gibbs' lips again and again. And then words of gratitude, a prayer Tony wouldn't have guessed Gibbs knew slipping from his lips. A quick glance at McGee told him their relief was shared. For now at least Gibbs was giving prayers of thanks, which meant they had something to be thankful for.

Then the paramedics were there poking and prodding at him and McGee, dead men were being counted Director Vance shouting out orders but it was Gibbs growling out a refusal to the paramedics that had him stepping away from the EMT at his side. It took only a hand on Gibbs' shoulder to make the older man understand what the medics trying to take Ziva wanted. Tony walked back to the medic that under other circumstances he might have flirted with. This moment however all his focus was on Gibbs and Ziva. The medics were working on Ziva; packages being ripped open, machines hooked up and all the while Gibbs kept shaking his head, almost like a dog trying to shake off the wet.

A quick glance at Vance and he saw the Director had noticed as well. Gibbs waved away the EMT trying to gain his attention all his focus on watching Ziva as she was wheeled to the ambulance. Then in a moment of weakness Tony hadn't seen before Gibbs abruptly stooped over almost stumbling as he did so. The EMT looked alarmed as Gibbs worked far too hard to stand upright again. It took only seconds and Vance was there talking to the medic and then to Gibbs.

Tony felt another shiver of fear, something was wrong _his_ gut was telling him things weren't likely to get better anytime soon. McGee glanced to him and his concern was as easy to see as the pain that had settled there. A stir in the crowd announced the arrival of another set of agents to the area. Men clad in windbreakers much like NCIS wore started filtering into the scene. Under other circumstances he might have seen their arrival much like a scene from the "Gangs of New York" warring factions fighting a turf war. Today though, as light began to ebb from the sky he couldn't find the will to care. Taking in the scene around him he saw bodies littering the ground; Fornell had arrived just in time to see a bleeding confused Gibbs loading himself into the ambulance behind Ziva. When Tobias looked to him as the sirens screamed and said ambulance took off at a high rate of speed he realized he couldn't give him much in the way of answers. The older man began making his way toward Vance his gaze was snagged by the bloodstains on the ground. A quick look at the ground had Fornell looking at him sharply far too many questions in his eyes. Tony wanted to reassure him, wanted to give him some sign that everything would be alright Instead they all watched as the ambulance faded from view wondering what was next.


	4. More than Words

McGee had his own instincts; he didn't talk about them like Gibbs. He rarely bragged about them like DiNozzo and he knew they weren't as well-honed as Ziva's but they were there. Those very instincts were what had led him to increase his training in firearms. Over the past few months they'd had far too many close calls and gotten far too lucky. It wasn't a bad thing it just told him that sooner or later their number would come up. If nothing else the law of averages backed him up on that one. Even with his gut churning lately and the knowledge that their time was waiting he never could have predicted today would be that day. No computer program would have given him that information. The hail of bullets that followed Tony and himself sounded freakishly like the clatter of a very loud typewriter. Rapid fire words pouring out of the barrel of a gun, though type written words had only been so deadly once before in his life.

This time nothing he wrote could get them out of the mess they were in. The burn of a bullet grazing bone told him this was no dream to wake from and quickly jot down notes before the scene was forgotten. As he heard Ziva screaming Gibbs' name he knew he wouldn't be writing about this for any public venue. The naked pain in her voice revealed more than he guessed she would have liked. Tony looked to him his face clearly showing that they both suspected what that cry meant. If he had written about this moment, this would have been that pivotal moment between two lovers kept apart by life's rules. It would have been the truth. Quickly he and Tony were moving toward Ziva's location, Ziva and Gibbs' location he mentally corrected. Gibbs was not an easy man to bring down. Many had tried and failed, it wasn't bravado that made Gibbs the powerful leader he was. It was a confidence earned at much expense.

Gibbs knew Tony saw him as mentor, perhaps even a father figure but McGee saw him a bit differently. He was a man to learn from but also one to observe, one to study because it was well known that he was a rare breed. A man honed in fire, wrapped in mystery and stamped with the hardships of those trials like a brand. McGee looked at his face in the mirror every morning and waited for the day he would bear that same stamp. Ziva was very much a reflection of the man she loved. As he and Tony turned a metal corner she stood fiercely protective, unafraid, he could easily picture the scene reversed. It would be just as easy to see Gibbs protecting her, they were each other's equal in many ways. Perhaps that was why they had denied their feelings for so long now. It had been a steady building only the briefest moments that had given him a clue to how they felt. Often times when they would date other people he thought perhaps he was only seeing what a writers mind wanted to see. Love and intrigue in the mundane walls of the workplace. But then a look would pass between them and the fiery pages of a romance novel would burst to life between them. He might have laughed at the way that description drifted through his head but as he watched Ziva drop wounded to the bleeding man he knew as indestructible he could easily see the covers of the bodice rippers his grandmother had read when she thought no one was watching. The covers with the strong men and women in the clasp of a passionate embrace had always seemed a stretch from reality. But as he watched the determination on Ziva's face as she tore until her hands slippery with blood and tears touched Kevlar he could almost believe that love like that existed.

He and Tony were trying to keep Gibbs still as he lay on the ground, yet he couldn't keep his eyes from a severely wounded Ziva. Blood seemed to pour from everywhere and yet her focus was all on Gibbs and insuring that the fear he was gasping out as he said her name was not another threat. It was with the awe of a man accustomed to the power of computer code that he watched Ziva force herself onto legs that shouldn't have been able to hold her. She stood above them all prepared to fight. Even as help poured forth in the form of agents and medical staff she stood willing to bleed her last to protect the man her heart belonged too. It was a breath stealing sort of amazement that kept him frozen and from reaching out to her.

Gibbs however had stolen himself from the ground, rising like the Lazarus he seemed to be sainted by. McGee watched as in a desperately beautiful play of movement full of grace and sadness Gibbs caught Ziva in his arms. It was terrifying the way she went limp in his arms rasping out his name on a rattling breath, but in the same way it was startling rapturous. In his arms their blood mixing together on the harsh asphalt McGee was certain he'd never seen a couple on any of the covers of his grandmothers books that could rival the one in front of him. The prayer harshly ground out between Gibbs' lips gave him hope if only for the moment that their story hadn't ended. That it may have just begun if the medics now laying her on a stretcher could just work fast enough.

As he watched, the man he so wished to someday emulate faltered. A rough step replaced the normal fluid gate. The half-smirk Gibbs was so known for was replaced with the flash of pain and a true stumble. McGee Ignored the paramedic still at his side hadn't really noticed her in the first place. He felt the rumble that was his gut's way of warning him and he watched as Gibbs early fell. Head dipping down, fingers touching the ground as he tried to steady himself. Tony, Vance and himself simultaneously stepped forward instinctively prepared to step in and help. This time it was Vance that managed, Ziva lay still on the stretcher, paramedics chattering quickly nearly drowning out the background noise of evidence being gathered. Vance managed without argument to convince Gibbs to follow Ziva into the back of the ambulance. Whether it was his unwillingness to be separated from her or the fog of confusion that surrounded him he climbed in without protest.

An influx of men in windbreakers heralded the arrival of the FBI and Fornell. A man McGee also respected. He knew the relationship between Fornell and Gibbs was a friendship that was based on a shared x-wife and the hard grinding of a job that cost them too much. The alarm on Fornell's face was a startling testament to how drawn Gibbs looked as he settled himself in the ambulance next to Ziva. The harsh yell of the siren pierced the haze McGee had slipped into. A quick glance at Vance and Tony and he could see that they all bore the same expression. Equal levels of concern had overtaken the normal urge to discuss the events of only moments before. The noise around them was a wash of voices, sirens, groans from the not-quite dead and stretchers squealing across pavement yet the silence between the three of them was nearly deafening.

The enemy had attempted to bring down the two most powerful people they knew. The reality of that seemed almost like a poor attempt at trying to change the end of a book as it was read. The three of them watched the ambulance as it sped off into the night wondering how the ending would be written for the pair inside. A shiver of a wind not in the air made McGee's hand shake slightly as he made to stand. Death had tried to steal both Gibbs and Ziva many times before it seemed impossible to believe today could be the day it finally succeeded.

More ambulances were arriving taking the enemy under guard to whatever hospital would have them. The paramedics beside him and Tony were leading them to an ambulance of their own. His eyes met Tony's and he saw the same urgency to leave as he felt. The speeding medical vehicle that held their teammates would reach a hospital and their fate far sooner than he and Tony would. It felt a bit like they had abandoned them. Vance stepped closer to them refrained from asking the usual questions and instructed the paramedics to take them to whatever hospital Gibbs and Ziva had been shuttled too. A quick nod from Tony was returned by Vance. It was followed only by a request for updates and the assurance he would follow as soon as possible.

To others Vance could seem cold, caring only about the job but McGee knew that everything the man did was for a reason. Running NCIS couldn't be an easy job especially with a senior agent like Gibbs. A brief smile passed his lips as he was helped in an ambulance to sit next to Tony. McGee had couldn't imagine trying to tell Gibbs what to do under any circumstances let alone attempting to be in charge of him. Neither of them spoke, words couldn't weigh the gravity of the situation. Like the eternal question of what the meaning of life was words couldn't be put to what they'd just experienced.

The ambulance ride was endured in silence only the low murmurs of the paramedics pushed through the avid way both he and Tony watched out the windows for the entrance to the hospital to appear. The pain of the bullet likely embedded in his shin started to pierce the adrenaline that had allowed him to push it aside. It took some doing but he managed to force his reaction to that pain down. His wound was minor compared to what his mind easily recalled about Ziva's. He stretched his shoulders huffing out a rough breath, it caught Tony's attention and the look of concern was appreciated but he shrugged that off as well. As the lights of the ambulance washed against the white façade of the hospital now finally in view he nearly let out a sigh of relief. He held it back though afraid to tempt fate that until now had been only just barely kind.

In moments they were escorted into the ER a hard look he would never admit he had to practice forced the EMT's to put him and Tony into a shared space normally separated by a curtain but that this time wasn't drawn. Questions were being asked but both of them were ignoring them in favor of watching a room just across the way. Again there was the chaotic rhythm of noises; beeping, loud voices harshly biting out orders, the tearing of paper and then the terrifying sound of electric shock being forced into a person. As though drawn by a string connected to that room he and Tony stumbled their way toward that room.

As they reached the glass doors the scene was almost more than he could believe. McGee had never been medically trained and despite his research had failed on many attempts to write a believable trauma scene. After today he feared that wouldn't be a problem. Any other time he might have noticed Ziva was nearly nude, clothes having been cut rapidly from her body but all he could see was the ragged wounds smattering her body. Jagged holes torn through soft skin, the wounds were raw and ugly much like the sounds Gibbs standing beside her was making. There was a nurse standing next to him urging him to come with her, trying to move the unmovable. The unmistakable sound of a flat lined heartbeat had his breath stopping cold in his throat. Tony rested a hand on his shoulder the slightest tremble traveling from him through McGee that ever so slight weakness might have caught his attention but it was instead snagged by the harsh words ripped from what seemed like Gibbs' soul.

"_You cannot die, you will live. I've already lost too much. Please live…for me..for us…_"

The words were full of desperation, agony and demand that only a man in love could utter with such force. For a moment everyone in the room stood eerily still. McGee knew from the look on the lead doctors face that he'd been about to call time of death. It was McGee's turn to shiver, to feel the cold walk of death through the room. But apparently even death wasn't willing to tangle with Jethro Gibbs. In what only could be the most dramatic moment he'd ever witnessed McGee watched as Ziva's body jerked, she fought a breath against the intubation tube and then uttered a groan of pain. That tragic sound was beautiful. He might not know much about the medical world but he knew enough that when she opened her eyes it was without a doubt a feat of pure will.

Suddenly the room so frozen was once again full of the graceful ballet of attempting to ensure Ziva lived. But as he and Tony watched brown eyes meet blue and he knew without a doubt that once again Ziva intended to follow where Gibbs led. Then she was slipping back into sleep, the blissful slumber that would keep the pain at bay. Her heart rate a serious of bouncing beeps though erratic seemed stable enough that the doctor no longer held a death grip on the paddles.

The nurse beside Gibbs was again trying to pull him from the room. She was stressing the urgency of a cat scan asking him what three words she'd asked him to remember. It was easy to see Gibbs had no intention of following her, leaving Ziva. McGee couldn't blame him he wouldn't want to leave her either, didn't want to leave her. She was family as surely as if she were truly blood. Leaving her alone seemed unthinkable. Finally it was apparent that Gibbs' will was stronger than anyone else's and the doctor agreed to let someone from the team stay with her. Tony the least injured is elected and only then does Gibbs allow himself to be drawn away. But not before in a shocking moment of intimacy he lets his lips slide across her forehead. Bodice rippers be damned he's thinking Gibbs and Ziva should be more likened to something Jane Austin would be proud to call her own.


	5. Bent But Never Broken

She woke slowly trying to orient herself to her surroundings by sound and smell. She knew better than to open her eyes. There was a tube in her throat and pain racked her body from various places. She held perfectly still listening for the sounds of anyone in the room. She heard the hiss of the oxygen in her throat, the ping of a bell somewhere far off, but nothing that led her to believe anyone watched her. Through a practice learned the hard way she kept her heartbeat as even as possible. Her mind raced the way her heart fought to. Silently she tried to put the pieces together of what had happened. In a flash of pain that touched her soul she saw the image of Gibbs lying on the ground in a puddle of blood.

Ever so slowly with the fear of what that image could mean she let her eyes crack open just a bit. Just the faintest hint of light greeted her, that and the hush of the sounds around her led her to believe it was evening or very early morning. A quick survey told her the room was empty so she allowed her eyes to open the slightest bit more. She'd expected to find herself in a hospital, but the walls seemed too warm, too fancy to be any hospital she could recall seeing before. The door to her room was open and she could see what appeared to be an empty nurse's station ahead of her. Taking that as a sign to move quickly, she coughed as quietly as possible to remove the tube from her throat. It was louder than she would have liked and brought with it a wave of pain. For a second it was all she could to lay still and breathe softly through that pain.

After another quick glance to ensure no one had heard her she reached to the IV in the top of her hand and removed it as well. The slight sting of the removal was nothing compared to multitude of stitches she felt pulling and tugging at her insides. She catalogued at least three gunshot wounds, which had received more than adequate care. Moving faster than her pain should have allowed her she crept to the doorway of her room and looked out. She was definitely in a hospital but it seemed a higher end facility. She heard the clink of keys and ducked back into her room. A brief glance showed her a security guard walking from one end of the hall to another. He was tall, fit and seemed to know what he was doing. Had she been at full strength she wouldn't have hesitated to face him instead she remained hidden and hoped he would reverse his steps. Holding herself so perfectly still was taking its toll and she felt a sweat break out on her brow. She wiped her hand on her forehead and found her attention caught by the medical ID on her wrist. She recognized her name, what was most likely a patient ID number and her blood type, but what made her pause was the admittance date. A glance at the calendar on the nurse's station desk and back at the bracelet showed her three days had passed since she'd been admitted.

She shook her head as yet another image of Gibbs falling guns in hand raced through her mind. The urgency to find him, if he was indeed here overwhelmed the pain trying to steal her breath. Finally as she'd hoped the guard found his attention draw by a pretty blond nurse stepping out of a room at the end of the hall. Ziva waited until they'd disappeared in the room before she moved out of the doorway. She shivered slightly in the patient gown and wished for something warmer. That fast, as though fate had decided to smile on her she passed a door labeled "employee lounge" through the window she could see it was empty. Stepping in she was again struck by her lush surroundings. Desks, large TVs, mini closets rather than lockers, still she didn't let her curiosity distract her simply searched until she found a set of plain grey scrubs that looked as though they might fit.

Watching out the window in the door she slipped into them trying not to think about how severe her wounds were. Logically she knew she could be doing more damage by moving like she was but the drive to find Gibbs was unrelenting. Her eyes caught the clock on the wall, the fact it was nearing two am explained the quiet. Stuffing her patient gown in the trash can she looked around for anything that might work as a weapon, spotting a thick leather belt with a wide metal buckle she picked it up and snuck back out the door. Her body screamed at her to rest, to crawl back to her bed instead she moved towards the nurses' station. Files were nowhere to be found, and each computer required a password. There were video monitors but all she saw were three empty rooms. The one she had vacated, one that had clearly been empty for some time and another one that look as though it was in need of a cleaning. She silently bit back her frustration until her hand brushed past a piece of paper lying next to a keyboard. The words had her fighting back bile and physically swallowing a cry of disbelief. Recently written, from the uncapped sharpie lying next to it, the note read _Gibbs to Morgue. _Her eyes blurred with tears but those too she had to force away, as the sound of footsteps and keys broke into her grief.

Whatever hell she'd stepped into she be damned if she didn't at least get her goodbye. She slipped away from the desk and to the nearest stairwell. Closing the door as quietly as possible she made her way down one flight of stairs before stopping to rest. It didn't seem possible that Gibbs could be gone; her mind couldn't accept that reality. She smacked her head sharply trying to remember how he could have been taken down. Suddenly it hit her in a flurry of memory much like a fast playing slideshow. The shipping containers, the bomb, Gibbs bleeding, holding her as pain tore through her, she almost remembered him talking to her begging her to stay with him but that had to be her mind trying to make sense of it all. Her body began to feel the pain now, every stich, bruise and ache. She moved to open the door to the next floor and found the door wouldn't open. There was a button that if pushed would surely open the door but it was bright red and if she'd been forced to guess it would sound an alarm along with opening the door. She swore and made her way back up the stairs to where she had just come from. Peering in she saw the nurse's desk was still empty; presumably the pretty nurse and security guard were otherwise entertained. She took it as the only other blessing she was likely to get and slipped back onto the floor. Reentering her room she rifled through the drawers till she found two paperclips. Stealthily she walked over to the drug box and picked the lock, her trembling hands made it take longer than she would have liked. Still she'd expected a key code rather than a true lock so she took a calming breath, ignored the pain and grabbed a syringe and after a few seconds of searching the right bottle. Closing the cabinet she slipped back into the room filled the syringe and waited.

She had to force herself not think of Gibb lying in the cold morgue below her or how the hell she could have let him down. Instead she focused on finding her way to him, it was unlikely she would make her way out of this place, not as injured as she was but if she could at least see him one last time she could live with whatever they did to her. After what seemed like forever but was in actuality only ten minutes she heard the jangle of keys again. Drawing on all the strength she had left she waited until the guard would be just outside her door and stepped out. A forceful push on a pressure point on his wrist and the needle just touching the skin of his carotid artery had him freezing in place.

"If you try to fight I will kill you and just take your keys." Ziva almost head-smacked herself knowing it's what she should have done but hadn't been quite clearheaded enough to follow through.

"Wait…hang on."

"You will give me your keys and then you will handcuff yourself to the bed in my room. Do we understand each other? Nod yes or no but do not speak." Ziva led him into her room as he nodded carefully. "Pull out the keys to the cuffs, two fingers." She watched as he did as she asked. "Now throw them toward the corner of the room." Again he did as she asked. Still holding the needle against his neck she shook her head against the sweat that had once again beaded. "Put them on hook them through the side-rail of the bed." Only when he did as she asked to reach down with her free hand and grab the rest of his keys and his gun. "You will speak quietly and only to answer my questions." He nodded. "Which key opens the stairwell?" he pointed and she continued "What floor is the morgue?" She watched him look confused and then heard him speak softly. "sub floor , but…."

Ziva held his gun up, watched him pale. Her hands were visibly shaking and she hated the weakness, she wasn't entirely sure she was going to make it to the stairs let alone all the way down to the morgue. And it had taken too long to get answer from him which meant the nurse was likely back at her station. The man in front of her was likely a party to Gibbs' death somehow. The need to beat him into his own death rode her hard, only her weakness held her back. She fixed him with a hard stare fighting the urge to put a bullet in his head. She took the slightest step back, fighting the physical pain that was far outweighed by the grief tearing through her. In that moment she might have given into any question asked of her just to see him alive and well again. In her hand the gun trembled and she knew a tear traveled down her cheek.

"If I find out you had anything to do with his death, I will find you again." Again she watched confusion cross the guards face followed quickly by fear.

"Wait…you don't understand." Ziva watched the man stop abruptly heard the same footsteps he had and new her time was up. Any chance she'd had of escape was as lost to her as Gibbs.

"Ziva?"

Spiders of disbelief crept along the back of her neck as his voice skittered along her spine. Gun trained on the man in front of her she turned her head ever so slowly. There impossibly was a dead man. Risen from concrete and blood, Gibbs stood in front of her; Dinozzo behind him. In jeans and an NCIS sweatshirt he looked so vibrantly alive that she barely noticed the sling encasing his left arm. Barely, registered the blond nurse stepping up behind them looking terrified by the gun in her hand.

"Jethro…" his name the one she'd never allowed herself to say before this moment whispered past her lips, the disbelief dripping from each letter. She almost faltered but instead steeled her spine waiting for reality to kick in and the mirage that was the man she loved to dissipate.

Gibbs stepped into the room slowly, Ziva was already startled, shaking and shouldn't have even been able to stand. Rushing toward her as he wanted to would only set her off. As he moved he took in her shocked expression. She easily allowed him to take the gun in her hand. He set it on safe and handed it back to Tony. She took a gulping breath and he felt one hand reach out and tentatively touch his jaw. Slowly that same hand slid down his chest until it rested over his heart. For a long moment she held perfectly still and from the force of her gaze directed at him he found he couldn't move.

"You are alive…" Ziva sucked in a deep breath of air nearly dropped to her knees at the pain that sliced through her when every injury in her body flared to life. "But I do not understand. The note it said you were in the Morgue?"

Gibbs watched whatever energy had been sustaining Ziva begin to ebb away, watched her skin pale further than he thought possible and felt her shaking moving his own body. Despite their audience he pulled her into his arms. Drawing her back he seated her with him in one of the large easy chairs in the room. He ignored the man handcuffed to the bed, Tony and the nurse watching them. "I'm alive Ziva. They needed me down in the morgue to do some identification that's all." Motioning to Tony he indicated for him to free the security guard and clear the room. Ziva was hanging by a thread and she wouldn't appreciate anyone seeing her lose the battle she was so desperately fighting.

Finally they were alone and with her head tucked into his chest Gibbs felt the hot burn of her tears against his neck. "I'm confused Gibbs, I do not know what is happening. I do not know where I am, I woke up alone….."

Gibbs cursed to himself, wondering where McGee was. They had all taken turns sitting with Ziva. "You're in a private wing of the hospital Ziva. The director was worried because the cell we took out might not have been alone. They wanted us protected. McGee was with you when I left so I'm not sure why you were alone. Do you remember how we ended up here?"

Ziva knew she needed to move, the pressure on her wounds was painful, showing her weakness to him was equally painful yet the feel of his arms wrapped around her cut through all of it. "Yes….I am sorry I am not handling this well. I thought…" she broke off her words knowing that the heat of the moments before death could lead a man to say things he might not otherwise mean.

Gibbs picked her up holding her far too close for how injured she was and carried her to her bed. After laying her down he took the spot next to her. "What did you think Ziva?"

Ziva felt the blessed comfort of the bed supporting them and could finally breathe normally again. Or perhaps it was that Gibbs was finally next to her again. She couldn't ignore his question but she knew how much she would reveal simply by answering. "I thought I had lost you."

Gibbs let his hand trace the wound the IV had left in her hand. He had to swallow past the fear the past three days had poured into his bones. His own injuries a bullet wound to the shoulder and a nasty concussion had kept him in his own bed until only that morning. Still he'd snuck from his own bed to hers as often as the stubborn nurse would allow. So the softly whispered words and all the emotion behind them were far more familiar than she might have believed. "You aren't alone in that fear Ziva. There were many moments I too thought I had lost you. Somehow I got damn lucky…we got damn lucky."

As he watched her dark brown eyes so full of pain and sadness finally locked with his. He saw the shock the realization that he felt as she did and he smiled. "I prayed Ziva, literally on my knees that you would live, that if I was never granted another thing to have you given back to me. Not for a moment will I forget what a gift you are."

Ziva pulled in another breath letting her fingers twist with his, fighting the heavy weight of sleep trying to claim her. "I thought I just wanted you, but it is more than that."

"Do you know why I was wearing a suit that day?" Gibbs watched her blush, remembering the way she had looked at him that morning. She shook her head and he stroked her hair as she winced at the motion. "I turned in my retirement papers to Vance. I planned on telling you after work. I wanted you; for more than a night or a moment."

Ziva heard the absolute certainty in his voice the confidence that his decision had been the right one and it shocked her as much as the actual words he spoke. "I would never ask that of you…"

"And that's why I didn't tell you until after." He let his head rest against hers. "I love you Ziva David and I'm taking this second chance and running with it, if you'll have me."

Ziva felt the heavy weight of sleep trying to draw a curtain over the most important moment of her life. With her hand against the beat of his heart, a reminder he was indeed alive she whispered against his mouth. "And I love you Jethro Gibbs." Only then could she sleep, wrapped in his arms safe knowing this time she wouldn't wake to a nightmare but to the best kind of dream come true.


End file.
